CHAPTER ONE.

"From the get go I knew this was hard to hold, Like a crash the whole thing spun out of control." – All Time Low 'Time Bomb'

Derek Hale stood in front of what he'd call a typical suburban home. Brick foundation made up about a third of the house, while the other two thirds were covered in cream-colored, plastic siding. The most striking feature of the home was the white wrap-around porch, decorated with bright baskets of flowers and beige lawn furniture. The yard was well kept, the vibrant green bushes and grass maintained. This was the home of Stiles Stilinski. To be honest, Derek had expected nothing less. Stiles' dad was the county sheriff, so it only figured they would have a nice house. Stiles' Jeep was parked in the driveway, and Derek considered sleeping in there rather than actually disturbing Stiles.

But it was storming out, and he was drenched from head to toe. He was also enduring some of the most awful physical pain he had ever felt.

It had been a typical night for Derek, or so it began. He'd just gotten through with hunting and decided to work out since he was not yet feeling sleepy. Working out was a big de-stressor after dealing with Scott's antics all day. Pushups and pull-ups were his favorites. They allowed him to feel the burn; the pain. He'd heard the two hunters enter the house. He was a wolf for Christ's sake. He could hear a pin drop a mile away. He quickly got out of sight and was able to lunge at the male hunter, knocking his head against the wall and putting him unconscious. Kate was more difficult though. She'd been hunting Derek for quite a while. She whipped to a long, stick-like weapon. He figured a couple hits wouldn't hurt, so he lunged for her too, only to receive a jolt of electricity to his mid-abdomen. The pain radiated waves of electricity coursing through his veins. From the top of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes he felt as if he was being pricked with needles. He tried to lunge again, but was jolted once more. This time closer to the heart. He lay there. She wanted information about the alpha. Like the alpha wouldn't be dead if he knew who it was. She talked about his sister. The only family he'd had left until she was found in the woods, chopped in half. He knew the hunters had something to do with her death. He found the energy to put up a struggle. Another shock. He let out a scream. It wasn't them who did it, she told him. So it must have been the alpha; he killed one of his own kind. Another shock, and then Kate and the other took off, smiles on their faces. Derek punched the floor, laying in the fetal position as the pricking sensation increased. Anger was bubbling up inside him.

He knew he had to get up and go somewhere. Those hunters could come back at any minute and finish him off. He slowly got up, using the stairs as support. He found his shirt and jacket and threw them on, heading out into the night.

Every step hurt a little. The waves of electricity were still moving through him. And to make it worse, it was raining; pouring. It was like being struck by lightning. His entire body quivered, and his heart was beating faster than ever. He could hear the blood pumping through his head.

There was only one dilemma for Derek: Where to go? He was thought of as a killer by nearly everyone in town, and had also gained the reputation of a drug dealer. Scott hated him with a passion and even though Derek was his key to life, he wouldn't let him stay there. That left one other person: Stiles Stilinski.

Derek walked up the cement walkway and stared up at Stiles' window. It was big and illuminated by a desk lamp. He could see Stiles peeking out the window, yet trying to hide himself. He could also hear the steadily increasing beat of Stiles' heart as he realized who was standing in front of his house. His eyes bulged and his mouth gaped open, and he started breathing as if he were about to have a heart attack. "No way, no frickin' way!" Derek heard him breathe, throwing his hands up in the air.

He pounced on the roof, now standing in front of the window and peering in at shocked Stiles. Stiles threw open the window and shouted, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He was lucky there was a heavy downpour, or else the neighbors might have heard him.

"You don't look so good. What happened to you?" Stiles asked, moving toward his bed.

Derek could barely speak. He gasped as he pulled himself through the window. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and could understand why Stiles looked so freaked out. His usual tan skin was a pasty white color, and there were deep purplish bags under his eyes. He just screamed sickness.

"Please tell me you did not get shot again, because we won't be able to get the bullet and I can't chop off your arm!" Stiles shouted in a whisper, panicking.

"Calm down. I didn't get shot. I was just attacked by Allison's werewolf hunting Aunt. She came to my place, her and another guy. I attacked the guy, but she pulled out a taser and got me a few times."

Stiles looked at him in astonishment. That had to suck. At least he wouldn't be chopping off any arms soon.

"So why are you here?" Stiles asked.

"I can't go home, because they could come back and attack me again. And I don't have anywhere else to go. I came to you because I knew Scott would say no. I need to stay here, just for tonight. I could also do with a shower and some clean clothes."

"Okay, that I can do," Stiles reassured him. He felt kind of bad for Derek, but he was still pretty nervous. There would be a werewolf capable of killing him sleeping in his room tonight. He'd be lucky if he could shut his eyes. He walked over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of PJs, figuring Derek's broad shoulders would be no match for any of his T-shirts.

"Here's some pants, bathroom is across the hall, and when you're done sleep over there," he said, pointing towards a corner by the closet and throwing a pillow and blanket. "And try to be quick; my dad's not exactly your biggest fan."

Stiles lay down in bed uncomfortably, punching his pillow as Derek left the room. If his dad came home to find Derek Hale in his house, Stiles would be grounded forever, and then some.

Derek could hear Stiles' heart rate speed up yet again. He knew he'd made the boy nervous and angry. He knew Sheriff Stilinski could discover he was there at any moment. He quickly turned on the shower, leaving the water as warm as his skin could handle. There were four bruise-like welts on his torso, and as he stepped in to the fountain of warmth he began to relax. The welts stung as the met the water, but he grew used to the feeling. He stepped out and dried off quickly, throwing on the pajama pants Stiles had given him. He hurried across the hall and made a bed in the corner, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep no matter how exhausted he was. It just felt good to be safe. Well, for the most part. Stiles could be a little neurotic sometimes.

"Thank you, Stiles," Derek said, the tone of gratitude recognizable in his voice.

"Yeah," Stiles replied. "You're welcome."

"I know you hate me, and you're only doing this because Scott is your best friend and he needs to stay safe, but I appreciate it," Derek said before closing his eyes and resting his head on his pillow.

"Derek, I don't hate you," Stiles whispered, sitting up in bed. "You're just always there, stealing the spotlight when something needs figuring out. You think you know everything and treat me like an idiot. Do you really blame me for being so hostile?"

"I'm sorry," Derek murmured. "I just want to help. Scott is completely alone, that's what you guys don't understand. I have no idea who the alpha of his pack is, or even the pack that he belongs to. I'm the only wolf around here though. At lease the only wolf that is willing to reveal myself and put my life on the line to help him. All you two want me to do is go away. Do you realize that if I go away Scott is left clueless and possibly dead?"

Stiles felt like a complete asshole. All Derek wanted was to protect Scott, and as weird as it sounded, him too. All they had been doing was shunning him, refusing his help.

Stiles was oozing with guilt now. He had heard about what happened to Derek's family from Scott. Wolf hunters had set their house on fire, burning it nearly to the ground. Eleven people inside, some not even wolves. Everyone besides him, his sister and his uncle didn't make it out. His Uncle was now in a medical facility because Derek couldn't take care of him. Scott said he suffered from horrific burns on one side of his body and was either unable to speak or in a state of permanent shock. Then Derek lost his sister a few weeks ago, when she was found in half in the wood near his house. Derek had been the prime suspect for his sister's murder, but Stiles knew t couldn't have been him. He was hurt, and guarded himself well. Now he was a loner who stayed in his half burnt up house. That had to be one tough life. He knew Derek's story. Maybe it was only fair for him to share his own.

He climbed out of bed and walked over to the corner where Derek was laying, and sat down next to him. He could just see the outline of Derek as he sat up and stared at him.

Stiles reached for the desk lamp and turned it on. The bulb was close to dying, so they were just barely illuminated with light.

He didn't exactly know what to think of Derek's condition. His normal complexion had returned, but he had swollen, red welts all over his chest. He could see Derek's hands shaking if he paid close attention.

"Do they hurt badly?" Stiles asked nervously, reaching out a hand and caressing the welt nearest to Derek's heart with the gentlest touch.

"Not as much as they did. They've healed a lot already," Derek replied softly, and Stile's noticed that he had stopped shaking.

"Scott told me about your family, you know, what really happened. I'm really sorry. Truth is, my dad isn't home. I don't know where he is, or when he'll even be home. Or, if he'll come home at all. Some nights he does. Most nights he works late, falls asleep at the station, and just wakes up and gets working. He's all I really have left. My mom died a few years ago from cancer. Before then my dad tried to be around a lot. We'd do things, like sports and stuff. I knew he was there for me when I needed him and that he'd protect me. Now I never see him, and he leaves me here alone until the late hours of night. No one calls to make sure I'm okay. Nothing; I'm alone. A-and Scott has become so infatuated with Allison, and this great new life he has that he can't bother to ask me how I am doing. I'm honestly not sure that I know myself." Stiles stared down at his lap, noticing that he was now the one shaking.

Derek wasn't sure how to respond. He was taken aback by Stiles' display of pure and raw emotion. The boy truly trusted him. He wasn't used to sharing emotional things with people. He had led a life full of pain, which left him cold, hard and guarded. Somehow he found his guard slipping away, and let himself open up to Stiles.

"When my family was killed in the fire, there were no words to describe it. I was left alone. I was a kid, and I was all alone except for my sister. I was supposed to protect her. I turned my back for a minute and she vanished. Then she turns up dead. And I'm the suspect. I wouldn't kill all I had left. I can't even describe how I feel now. Guilty. Abandoned. Cold. Hard. There's nothing left for me. Be happy you have one person in your life who cares about you, even if you can't tell."

"I guess so," Stiles whispered softly, preparing to get up off the floor. "I wish I could find them."

"Wait," Derek muttered, grabbing Stiles by the wrist. "You did find them. I'm here, and I care."

Derek had a death grip on his wrist, but Stiles wasn't afraid and he didn't try to move anywhere. His heart was pounding.

"I knew your dad wasn't home. Your heart is the only one I hear beating in here. He could feel Stile's blood pumping through his veins. He pulled Stiles closer to him until their mouths were barely separated. He could smell the spearmint toothpaste Stiles had used. Stiles was barely breathing now. He was nervous, and Derek could tell.

"Relax," Derek whispered, moving his hand to the back of Stiles' neck and pushing their faces together. Their lips met in a soft, wet kiss. Stiles was inexperienced, but soon got the hang of it. He wrapped his arms around Derek and let himself fall into Derek's hold as Derek lightly circled his neck. Stiles let his hands run over Derek's arms and down his chest as Derek pried open his lips and stuck his tongue in Stiles' mouth. Stiles did not protest, returning the favor. He was straddling Derek now, wanting more. Derek was trying to fight the urge not to give in. He heard a car pull up in the driveway, but ignored it as he fondled Stiles' inner thigh. He heard a door open and softly close but instantly ignored it as Stiles shoved his hand in Derek's pants. He wanted so badly to take the boy, have his way with him. Then he heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. It took everything he had to push Stiles off of him.

"Get in bed, and pretend to be asleep," he ordered Stiles.

Stiles could tell by Derek's tone that he was serious. He ran to the bed as Derek dashed out the window. Just as he shut his eyes, his dad opened the door and poked his head in. He walked across the room, shut the window and left. As soon as the door was shut and he his father's bedroom door shut, he ran and threw open the window.

"Derek?" He whispered. He stepped out onto the roof in to the pouring rain and looked around. Derek has vanished.

He climbed back inside, changed, and lay down in bed. The window stayed open, just in case.